Behind Perfume, Only Solitude
Ink will come. Lamp lung breathes light at the edge of an idea. The edge an idea, also the door of the room that silence opens. The pen sighs, a lens for the shut-in light. Breathe me, light. Have the idea to have me.
First published in the Seattle Review. Copyright © 2009 by Liz Waldner. Used by permission of the author. All rights reserved.